A snowy night

A curtain of snow covers the city, turns it into a fairytale land and hides all the filth. It freezes the stenches and paints beautiful crystals on the grimy glass windows. It lights up the darkening world a little bit. The first snow this winter. Tomorrow, children will play in it, dirt will turn it grey and brown and some people will curse the slippery ice that will follow after this night, but right now, a silence seems to be flowing over the city, covering it like a heavy blanket. It’s as if the world has been frozen in time. The church bells stroke five a few minutes ago. I smile without opening my mouth and take my first breath for the night, smelling the chilly air and savouring it like a drug. The snow makes me feel almost alive again as I walk towards the church.

I am going to have fun tonight.

It’s more of a cathedral than just a church, with a high tower pointing like a dark finger towards the starry sky. I can hear the people inside, just a priest who is finishing various tasks. It will be closed in one hour so I need to hurry. But first I have something else to do so I don’t enter the large building. Instead I sneak into an alley behind it and wait.

The first one to approach is a young man, hardly more than a boy, who walks with confidence through the darkness, despite his delicate build. He hears my chuckle but he never has time to use the knife he pulls out, or to defend himself as I yank his head back by the hair. I’m not holding his arms; I don’t need to. The knife lays forgotten on the ground and the fingers of his right hand are all broken. I am quite fast. He isn’t very strong to begin with and he is not left-handed, so his clawing and twisting means nothing to me, even the weakest of my kind could have handled him. Only when he goes for my eyes do I catch his wrist, moving too fast for him to see, my other hand still in his hair. His brown eyes grow wide and underneath my fingers I can feel his pulse quickening with fear. I raise the resisting hand to my lips and plant a gentle kiss on it, surprising and confusing him even more.
The sky is darkening fast, the way it does in this time of the year and I doubt he can really see my face. It’s only my supernatural night vision that allows me to study the details in his face. The brown hair is long and tied back with a ribbon, but a few bangs fall down into his face anyway. His smooth skin shows that he is one of those well-off, educated people who has never really had to work hard with his body. He isn’t wearing a wig like most of the wealthier men of this time, but then again, he can’t be older than sixteen, so perhaps he doesn’t consider himself in need of one. His eyes are large and sparkling with anger, trying to hide the fear that lies behind them. The soft-looking lips tense when he opens his mouth to scream, a scream that turns into a choked whimpering sound as I cover his mouth with my own to silence him. He tastes sweet, like the apples I enjoyed long ago and I laugh when he tries to bite my tongue. Pulling back before he has the time to do it, I smile showing my sharp fangs.

“You like biting?” I ask with a smirk as he draws in a ragged breath and tense in fear “Well, that’s nice. You know what…?” I lean close as he struggles to get away “I like biting too.”

My lips are now resting at the hollow base of his throat and I can feel him trembling, paralysed with fear. I smile and bite down, clamping my mouth over the cascade of blood that bursts out and sucking hard to stop any of the precious liquid from spilling. Slowly, the boy relaxes, just like I knew he would, as the pain of my bite fades and is replaced by the pleasure that the kiss of my kind can bring if we want it to.
He was pushing at me earlier, trying to shove me away with that weak little left arm. Now that same arm is resting against my chest, the hand on my shoulder playing with a loose strand of my black hair. I withdraw, put a hand over the wound to prevent the bleeding and look into his half closed, slightly unfocused eyes.

“Do you know what will happen now?” I whisper, my lips so close to his, almost touching.

His eyes slowly begins to focus again and he shakes his head as good as he can with my hand on his throat.

“Now you will die.”

Is eyes open wider but he doesn’t try to get away. My guess is that he’s still weak from blood loss, pleasure and shock.

“You will die...and you will die in pleasure.”

“No…” his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

I laugh at him as I drive my teeth into the big vein in his neck and he moans. I almost moan too, his blood is so good. It fills my mouth and my being, thick and with that metallic taste running down my throat. The second time I release him, he is dead. I’ve almost drained him dry but there’s still a tiny little river of crimson trickling down his neck and staining his clothes. I bend down and lick it up carefully, allowing some of it to smear around my mouth just for fun. After all, the night has just begun. I drop the body unceremoniously on the ground and head for the church gates.

Soon the real fun will begin.